The guy in the Subaru Crosstrek came down the hill, stopped uncomfortably close to my driver’s-side door, and rolled down his window. “Can I help you?” he asked. He seemed irritated that I had pulled over in front of his vineyard in, what, some old 911 or something? I wanted to tell him that by stopping there, I had increased his property value by a million bucks (okay, more), but I figured heroic tales of the car’s Paris-Dakar win and its Group B ambitions would be lost on this guy.
From the Archive: 1987 Porsche 959
Miami Heat: 2015 Porsche 918 vs. 1989 Porsche 959
The Porsche 959 was, and is, a subtle supercar, not a hair-metal extrovert like its Italian contemporaries. But then, I wouldn’t drive a Lamborghini Countach in heavy traffic, cold weather, or pounding rain. The 959, the blueprint for the next three decades of any-road-anytime turbocharged all-wheel-drive 911s, doesn’t care about bad weather. Neither do its custodians from the Porsche Museum in Stuttgart, whence this car came. When rain shut down California’s Sonoma Raceway, our intended venue, they simply handed me the keys and told me to hit the road. I could scarcely believe it. It was like calling the Louvre and saying: “Hey, my law firm’s having a party. May I borrow the Code of Hammurabi?” And they say, “Sure, but just try not to spill too much queso on the section about oxen subleasing.”
The museum’s 1988 959 looks classic but conceals a quiver of modern tech. It has an adjustable suspension (damping and ride height), anti-lock brakes, and multiple settings for the torque-biasing all-wheel-drive system. Gas-station attendants of the day were surely confused by what look like triple fuel flaps. The front one is for fuel; the rear two feed the 959’s oil and hydraulic sumps. Beneath the engine cover, there’s a filler neck for coolant, because this flat-six has water-cooled heads on top of its air-cooled cylinders. So along with everything else, we had a preview of the first water-cooled 911, the 996.
The 959 served as the technological lodestar not just for Porsche, but for the entirety of the modern supercar world. No, other carmakers did not start building flat-six engines and hanging them out behind the rear axle. But there are precious few supercars anymore that aren’t force-fed air by multiple turbos, and all-wheel drive has become just as ubiquitous in more plebeian autos. The 959’s better-living-through-technology ethos has proved to be an even more powerful inspiration. The 959 was so far ahead of its time, it feels as if we’re only now catching up.
The 959 has a six-speed manual, the case of which is cast of magnesium, but the shift pattern lists only five numbers. Porsche named the gear above first “G” (for “Gelände,” meaning terrain) to help the 959 meet pass-by noise regulations (the car ran the test in second, which is really third). As it turns out, the short gear works great for stop-and-go California traffic. More amazing foresight from 1980s Porsche.
When the road opens up, make sure you’re pointing straight when the tach swings toward 12 o’clock. Before 5000 rpm, the second of the two turbos joins the party, a Trent Reznor metronome of hissing and clicking accompanying the manic frenzy of acceleration, that trademark sledgehammer 930 Turbo boost binge. To 60 mph, this is a 3.6-second car, and it feels even quicker when that second turbo starts kicking. What must this have felt like in 1987? Scarcely believable, probably.
Crosstrek Guy appreciated none of this, and while his cluelessness offended me on the 959’s behalf, the über-Porsche’s cloak of normalcy remains its genius. By basing this wildest of creations on the 911, Porsche crafted an all-time dream car that also forged a clear link to production Turbos for generations to come.
From the April 2020 issue.
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Source: Reviews - aranddriver.com
